Peter Simple and The Three Cutters, Vol. 1 by Captain Frederick Marryat

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"'Well, that's what I call a faithful good servant that earns herwages,' says I; 'so now I'll just take another glass, Mrs O'Rourke, andthank you too. Sure you're the woman that knows everything, and a mightypretty woman into the bargain.'

"'Let me alone now, Father M'Grath, and don't be pinching me that way,anyhow.'

"'It was only a big flea that I perceived hopping on your gown, mydarling, devil anything else.'

"'Many thanks to you, father, for that same; but the next time you'dkill my fleas, just wait until they're in a _more dacent_ situation.'

"'Fleas are fleas, Mrs O'Rourke, and we must catch 'em when we can, andhow we can, and as we can, so no offence. A good night's rest to you,Mrs O'Rourke--when do you mean to confess?'

"'I've an idea that I've too many fleas about me to confess to you justnow, Father M'Grath, and that's the truth on it. So a pleasant walk backto you.'

"So you'll perceive, my son, that having got all the information fromMrs O'Rourke, it's back I went to Ballyhinch, till I heard it whisperedthat there were doings down at the old house at Ballycleuch. Off I set,and went to the house itself, as priests always ought to be welcomed atbirths, and marriages, and deaths, being, as you know, of great use onsuch occasions--when who should open the door but Father O'Toole, thebiggest rapparee of a priest in the whole of Ireland. Didn't he steal ahorse, and only save his neck by benefit of clergy? and did he ever giveabsolution to a young woman without making her sin over again? 'What maybe your pleasure here, Father M'Grath?' says he, holding the door withhis hand.

"'Only just to call and hear what's going on.'

"'For the matter of that,' says he, 'I'll just tell you that we're allgoing on very well; but ar'n't you ashamed of yourself, Father M'Grath,to come here to interfere with my flock, knowing that I confess thehouse altogether?'

"'That's as may be,' says I; 'but I only wanted to know what the ladyhad brought into the world.'

"'It's a _child_' says he.

"'Indeed!' says I; 'many thanks for the information; and pray what is itthat Mary Sullivan has brought into the world?'

"'That's a _child_ too,' says he; 'and now that you know all about it,good evening to you, Father M'Grath.' And the ugly brute slammed thedoor right in my face.

"'Who stole a horse?' cries I; but he didn't hear me--more's the pity.

"So you'll perceive, my dear boy, that I have found out something, atall events, but not so much as I intended; for I'll prove to FatherO'Toole that he's no match for Father M'Grath. But what I find out mustbe reserved for another letter, seeing that it's not possible to tell itto you in this same. Praties look well, but somehow or another,_clothes_ don't grow upon trees in ould Ireland; and one of yourhalf-quarterly bills, or a little prize-money, if it found its way here,would add not a little to the respectability of the family appearance.Even my cassock is becoming too _holy_ for a parish priest; not that Icare about it so much, only Father O'Toole, the baste! had on a bran newone--not that I believe that he ever came honestly by it, as I have bymine--but, get it how you may, a new gown always looks better than anold one, that's certain. So no more at present from your loving friendand confessor,

"URTAGH M'GRATH."

"Now, you'll observe, Peter," said O'Brien, after I had read the letter,"that, as I supposed, your uncle meant mischief when he went over toIreland. Whether the children are both boys or both girls, or youruncle's is a boy, and the other is a girl, there is no knowing atpresent. If an exchange was required, it's made, that's certain; but Iwill write again to Father M'Grath, and insist upon his finding out thetruth, if possible. Have you any letter from your father?"

"None, I am sorry to say. I wish I had, for he would not have failed tospeak on the subject."

"Well, never mind, it's no use dreaming over the matter; we must do ourbest when we get to England ourselves, and in the meantime trust toFather M'Grath. I'll go and write to him while my mind's full of it."O'Brien wrote his letter, and the subject was not started again.

Chapter XXXVII

Captain Kearney's illness--He makes his will, and devises sundrychateaux en Espagne for the benefit of those concerned--The legacy dutyin this instance not ruinous--He signs, seals, and dies.

The captain, as was his custom, went on shore, and took up his quartersat a friend's house; that is to say, the house of an acquaintance, orany polite gentleman who would ask him to take a dinner and a bed. Thiswas quite sufficient for Captain Kearney, who would fill hisportmanteau, and take up his quarters, without thinking of leaving themuntil the ship sailed, or some more advantageous invitation was given.This conduct in England would have very much trespassed on our ideas ofhospitality; but in our foreign settlements and colonies, where thesociety is confined and novelty is desirable, a person who could amuselike Captain Kearney was generally welcome, let him stay as long as hepleased. All sailors agree in asserting that Halifax is one of the mostdelightful ports in which a ship can anchor. Everybody is hospitable,cheerful, and willing to amuse and be amused. It is, therefore, a verybad place to send a ship to if you wish her to refit in a hurry; unless,indeed, the admiral is there to watch over your daily progress, and asharp commissioner to expedite your motions in the dockyard. The admiralwas there when we arrived, and we should not have lain there long, hadnot the health of Captain Kearney, by the time that we were ready forsea, been so seriously affected, that the doctor was of opinion that hecould not sail. Another frigate was sent to our intendedcruising-ground, and we lay idle in port. But we consoled ourselves: ifwe did not make prize-money, at all events, we were very happy, and themajor part of the officers very much in love.

We had remained in Halifax harbour about three weeks, when a very greatchange for the worse took place in Captain Kearney's disease. Disease,indeed, it could hardly be called. He had been long suffering from theinsidious attacks of a hot climate, and though repeatedly advised toinvalid, he never would consent. His constitution appeared now to bebreaking up. In a few days he was so ill, that, at the request of thenaval surgeons, he consented to be removed to the hospital, where hecould command more comforts than in any private house. He had not beenat the hospital more than two days, when he sent for me, and stated hiswish that I should remain with him. "You know, Peter, that you are acousin of mine, and one likes to have one's relations near one when weare sick, so bring your traps on shore. The doctor has promised me anice little room for yourself, and you shall come and sit with me allday." I certainly had no objection to remain with him, because Iconsidered it my duty so to do, and I must say that there was nooccasion for me to make any effort to entertain him, as he alwaysentertained me; but I could not help seriously reflecting, and feelingmuch shocked, at a man, lying in so dangerous a state--for the doctorshad pronounced his recovery to be impossible--still continuing a systemof falsehood during the whole day, without intermission. But it reallyappeared in him to be innate; and, as Swinburne said, "if he told truth,it was entirely by mistake."

"Peter," said he, one day, "there's a great draught. Shut the door, andput on some more coals."

"The fire does not draw well, sir," replied I, "without the door isopen."

"It's astonishing how little people understand the nature of thesethings. When I built my house, called Walcot Abbey, there was not achimney would draw; I sent for the architect and abused him, but hecould not manage it: I was obliged to do it myself."

"Did you manage it, sir?"

"Manage it--I think I did. The first time I lighted the fire, I openedthe door, and the draught was so great, that my little boy, William, whowas standing in the current of air, would have gone right up thechimney, if I had not caught him by the petticoats; as it was, his frockwas on fire."

"Why sir, it must have been as bad as a hurricane!"

"No, no, not quite so bad--but it showed what a little knowledge ofphilosophical arrangement could effect. We have no hurricanes inEngland, Peter; but I have seen a very pretty whirlwind when I was atWalcot Abbey."

"Indeed, sir."

"Yes; it cut four square haystacks quite round, and I lost twenty tonsof hay; it twisted the iron lamp-post at the entrance just as a porpoisetwists a harpoon, and took up a sow and her litter of pigs, that wereabout a hundred yards from the back of the house, and landed them safeover the house to the front, with the exception of the old sow puttingher shoulder out."

"Indeed, sir."

"Yes, but what was strange, there were a great many rats in the hayrick,and up they went with the hay. Now, Peter, by the laws of gravitation,they naturally come down before the hay, and I was walking with mygreyhound, or rather terrier, and after one coming down close to her,which she killed, it was quite ridiculous to witness her looking up inthe air, and watching for the others."

"A greyhound did you say, sir, or a terrier?"

"Both, Peter; the fact is, she had been a greyhound, but breaking herforeleg against a stump, when coursing, I had the other three amputatedas well, and then she made a capital terrier. She was a great favouriteof mine."

"Well," observed I, "I have read something like that in BaronMunchausen."

"Mr Simple," said the captain, turning on his elbow and looking meseverely in the face, "what do you mean to imply?"

"Oh, nothing, sir, but I have read a story of that kind."

"Most probably; the great art of invention is to found it upon facts.There are some people who out of a mole-hill will make a mountain; andfacts and fiction become so blended nowadays, that even truth becomes amatter of doubt."

"Very true, sir," replied I; and as he did not speak for some minutes, Iventured to bring my Bible to his bedside, as if I was reading it tomyself.

"What are you reading, Peter?" said he.

"Only a chapter in the Bible, sir," said I. "Would you like that Ishould read aloud?"

"Yes, I'm very fond of the Bible--it's the book of _truth_. Peter, readme about Jacob, and his weathering Esau with a mess of pottage, andobtaining his father's blessing." I could not help thinking it singularthat he should select a portion in which, for divine reasons, a lie wascrowned with success and reward.

When I had finished it, he asked me to read something more; I turnedover to the Acts of the Apostles, and commenced the chapter in whichAnanias and Sapphira were struck dead. When I had finished, he observedvery seriously, "That is a very good lesson for young people, Peter, andpoints out that you never should swerve from the truth. Recollect, asyour motto, Peter, to 'tell truth and shame the devil.'"

After this observation I laid down the book, as it appeared to me thathe was quite unaware of his propensity; and without a sense of yourfault, how can repentance and amendment be expected? He became morefeeble and exhausted every day, and, at last, was so weak that he couldscarcely raise himself in his bed. One afternoon he said, "Peter, Ishall make my will, not that I am going to kick the bucket just yet; butstill it is every man's duty to set his house in order, and it willamuse me; so fetch pen and paper, and come and sit down by me."

I did as he requested.

"Write, Peter, that I, Anthony George William Charles Huskisson Kearney(my father's name was Anthony, Peter; I was christened George, after thepresent Regent, William and Charles after Mr Pitt and Mr Fox, who weremy sponsors; Huskisson is the name of my great uncle, whose propertydevolves to me; he's eighty-three now, so he can't last long)--have youwritten down that?"

"Yes, sir."

"Being in sound mind, do hereby make my last will and testament,revoking all former wills."

"Yes, sir."

"I bequeath to my dearly beloved wife, Augusta Charlotte Kearney (shewas named after the Queen and Princess Augusta, who held her at thebaptismal font), all my household furniture, books, pictures, plate, andhouses, for her own free use and will, and to dispose of at her pleasureupon her demise. Is that down?"

"Yes, sir."

"Also, the interest of all my money in the three percents, reduced, andin the long annuities, and the balance in my agent's hands, for hernatural life. At her death to be divided into equal portions between mytwo children, William Mohamed Potemkin Kearney, and Caroline AnastasiaKearney. Is that down?"

"Yes, sir."

"Well, then, Peter, now for my real property. My estate in Kent (let mesee, what is the name of it?)--Walcot Abbey, my three farms in the Valeof Aylesbury, and the marsh lands in Norfolk, I bequeath to my twochildren aforenamed, the proceeds of the same to be laid up, deductingall necessary expenses for their education, for their sole use andbenefit. Is that down?"

"Not yet, sir--'use and benefit.' Now it is, sir."

"Until they come to the age of twenty-one years; or in case of mydaughter, until she marries with the consent of my executors, then to beequally and fairly valued and divided between them. You observe, Peter,I never make any difference between girls and boys--a good father willleave one child as much as another. Now, I'll take my breath a little."

I was really astonished. It was well known that Captain Kearney hadnothing but his pay, and that it was the hopes of prize-money to supporthis family, which had induced him to stay out so long in the WestIndies. It was laughable; yet I could not laugh: there was a melancholyfeeling at such a specimen of insanity, which prevented me.

"Now, Peter, we'll go on," said Captain Kearney, after a pause of a fewminutes. "I have a few legacies to bequeath. First, to all my servantsL50 each, and two suits of mourning; to my nephew, Thomas Kearney, ofKearney Hall, Yorkshire, I bequeath the sword presented me by the GrandSultan. I promised it to him, and although we have quarrelled, and notspoken for years, I always keep my word. The plate presented me by themerchants and underwriters of Lloyd's, I leave to my worthy friend, theDuke of Newcastle. Is that down?"

"Yes, sir."

"Well; my snuff-box, presented me by Prince Potemkin, I bequeath toAdmiral Sir Isaac Coffin; and, also, I release him from the mortgagewhich I hold over his property of the Madeline Islands, in NorthAmerica. By-the-bye, say, and further, I bequeath to him the bag ofsnuff presented to me by the Dey of Algiers; he may as well have thesnuff as he has the snuff-box. Is that down?"

"Yes, sir."

"Well then, now, Peter, I must leave you something."

"Oh, never mind me," replied I.

"No, no, Peter, I must not forget my cousin. Let me see; you shall havemy fighting sword. A real good one, I can tell you. I once fought a duelwith it at Palermo, and ran a Sicilian prince so clean through the body,and it held so tight, that we were obliged to send for a pair ofpost-horses to pull it out again. Put that down as a legacy for mycousin, Peter Simple. I believe that is all. Now for my executors; and Irequest my particular friends, the Earl of Londonderry, the Marquis ofChandos, and Mr John Lubbock, banker, to be my executors, and leave eachof them the sum of one thousand pounds for their trouble, and in tokenof regard. That will do, Peter. Now, as I have left so much realproperty, it is necessary that there should be three witnesses; so callin two more, and let me sign in your presence."

This order was obeyed, and this strange will duly attested, for I hardlyneed say, that even the presents he had pretended to receive werepurchased by himself at different times; but such was the force of hisruling passion even to the last. Mr Phillott and O'Brien used to comeand see him, as did occasionally some of the other officers, and he wasalways cheerful and merry, and seemed to be quite indifferent about hissituation, although fully aware of it. His stories, if anything, becamemore marvellous, as no one ventured to express a doubt as to theircredibility.

I had remained in the hospital about a week, when Captain Kearney wasevidently dying: the doctor came, felt his pulse, and gave it as hisopinion that he could not outlive the day. This was on a Friday, andthere certainly was every symptom of dissolution. He was so exhaustedthat he could scarcely articulate; his feet were cold, and his eyesappeared glazed, and turned upwards. The doctor remained an hour, felthis pulse again, shook his head, and said to me, in a low voice, "He isquite gone." As soon as the doctor quitted the room, Captain Kearneyopened his eyes, and beckoned me to him. "He's a confounded fool,Peter," said he: "he thinks I am slipping my wind now--but I knowbetter; going I am, 'tis true--but I shan't die till next Thursday."Strange to say, from that moment he rallied; and although it wasreported that he was dead, and the admiral had signed the acting orderfor his successor, the next morning, to the astonishment of everybody,Captain Kearney was still alive. He continued in this state, betweenlife and death, until the Thursday next, the day on which he assertedthat he would die--and, on that morning, he was evidently sinking fast.Towards noon, his breathing became much oppressed and irregular, and hewas evidently dying; the rattle in his throat commenced; and I watchedat his bedside, waiting for his last gasp, when he again opened hiseyes, and beckoning me, with an effort, to put my head close to him tohear what he had to say, he contrived, in a sort of gurgling whisper,and with much difficulty, to utter--"Peter, I'm going now--not that therattle--in my throat--is a sign of death: for I once knew a man--to_live_ with--_the rattle in his throat_--for _six weeks_." He fell backand expired, having, perhaps, at his last gasp, told the greatest lie ofhis whole life.

Thus died this most extraordinary character, who, in most other points,commanded respect: he was a kind man and a good officer; but from theidiosyncrasy of his disposition, whether from habit or from nature,could not speak the truth. I say from _nature_, because I have witnessedthe vice of stealing equally strong, and never to be eradicated. It wasin a young messmate of good family, and who was supplied with money toalmost any extent: he was one of the most generous, open-hearted ladsthat I ever knew; he would offer his purse, or the contents of hischest, to any of his messmates, and, at the same time, would stealeverything that he could lay his hands upon. I have known him watch forhours, to steal what could be of no use to him, as, for instance, an_odd_ shoe, and that much too small for his foot. What he stole he wouldgive away the very next day; but to check it was impossible. It was sowell known, that if anything was missed, we used first to apply to hischest to see if it was there, and usually found the article in question.He appeared to be wholly insensible to shame upon this subject, thoughin every other he showed no want of feeling or of honour; and, strangeto say, he never covered his theft with a lie. After vain attempts tocure him of this propensity, he was dismissed the service asincorrigible.

Captain Kearney was buried in the churchyard with the usual militaryhonours. In his desk we found directions, in his own hand, relative tohis funeral, and the engraving on his tombstone. In these, he stated hisaged to be thirty-one years. If this was correct, Captain Kearney, fromthe time that he had been in the service of his country, must haveentered the navy just _four months before_ he was born. It wasunfortunate that he commenced the inscription with "Here lies CaptainKearney," &c. &c. His tombstone had not been set up twenty-four hoursbefore somebody, who knew his character, put a dash under one word, asemphatic as it was true of the living man, "Here _lies_ Captain."

Chapter XXXVIII

Captain Horton--Gloomy news from home--Get over head and ears in thewater, and find myself afterwards growing one way, and my clothesanother--Though neither as rich as a Jew, nor as large as a camel, Ipass through my examination, which my brother candidates think passingstrange.

The day after Captain Kearney's decease, his acting successor made hisappearance on board. The character of Captain Horton was well known tous from the complaints made by the officers belonging to his ship, ofhis apathy and indolence; indeed, he went by the _soubriquet_ of "theSloth." It certainly was very annoying to his officers to witness somany opportunities of prize-money and distinction thrown away throughthe indolence of his disposition. Captain Horton was a young man offamily who had advanced rapidly in the service from interest, and fromoccasionally distinguishing himself. In the several cutting-outexpeditions, on which he had not volunteered but had been ordered, hehad shown, not only courage, but a remarkable degree of coolness indanger and difficulty, which had gained him much approbation: but it wassaid that this coolness arose from his very fault--an unaccountablelaziness. He would walk away, as it were, from the enemy's fire, whenothers would hasten, merely because he was so apathetic that he wouldnot exert himself to run. In one cutting-out expedition in which hedistinguished himself, it is said that having to board a very highvessel, and that in a shower of grape and musketry, when the boat dashedalongside, and the men were springing up, he looked up at the height ofthe vessel's sides, and exclaimed, with a look of despair, "My God! mustwe really climb up that vessel's decks?" When he had gained the deck,and became excited, he then proved how little fear had to do with theremark, the captain of the ship falling by his hand, as he fought inadvance on his own men. But this peculiarity, which in a junior officerwas of little consequence, and a subject of mirth, in a captain becameof a very serious nature. The admiral was aware how often he hadneglected to annoy or capture the enemy when he might have done it; and,by such neglect, Captain Horton infringed one of the articles of war,the punishment awarded to which infringement is _death_. Hisappointment, therefore, to the _Sanglier_ was as annoying to us as hisquitting his former ship was agreeable to those on board of her.

As it happened, it proved of little consequence: the admiral hadinstructions from home to advance Captain Horton to the first vacancy,which of course he was obliged to comply with; but not wishing to keepon the station an officer who would not exert himself, he resolved tosend her to England with despatches and retain the other frigate whichhad been ordered home, and which we had been sent up to replace. Wetherefore heard it announced with feelings of joy, mingled with regret,that we were immediately to proceed to England. For my part, I was gladof it. I had now served my time as midshipman, to within five months,and I thought that I had a better chance of being made in England thanabroad. I was also very anxious to go home, for family reasons, which Ihave already explained. In a fortnight we sailed with several vessels,and directions to take charge of a large convoy from Quebec, which wasto meet us off the island of St John's. In a few days we joined ourconvoy, and with a fair wind bore up for England. The weather soonbecame very bad, and we were scudding before a heavy gale, under barepoles. Our captain seldom quitted the cabin, but remained there on asofa, stretched at his length, reading a novel, or dozing, as he foundmost agreeable.

I recollect a circumstance which occurred, which will prove the apathyof his disposition, and how unfit he was to command so fine a frigate.We had been scudding three days, when the weather became much worse.

O'Brien, who had the middle watch, went down to report that "it blewvery hard."

"Very well," said the captain; "let me know if it blows harder."

In about an hour more the gale increased, and O'Brien went down again."It blows much harder, Captain Horton."

"Very well," answered Captain Horton, turning in his cot; "you may callme again when it _blows harder_."

At about six bells the gale was at its height, and the wind roared inits fury. Down went O'Brien again. "It blows tremendous hard now,Captain Horton."

Some time elapsed, and the first lieutenant reported "that they were allout of sight."

"Very well, then," said the captain; "call me when you see them again."

This was not very likely to take place, as we were going twelve knots anhour, and running away from them as fast as we could; so the captainremained undisturbed until he thought proper to get up to breakfast.Indeed, we never saw any more of our convoy, but taking the gale withus, in fifteen days anchored in Plymouth Sound. The orders came down forthe frigate to be paid off, all standing, and recommissioned. I receivedletters from my father, in which he congratulated me at my name beingmentioned in Captain Kearney's despatches, and requested me to come homeas soon as I could. The admiral allowed my name to be put down on thebooks of the guard-ship, that I might not lose my time, and then gave metwo months' leave of absence. I bade farewell to my shipmates, shookhands with O'Brien, who proposed to go over to Ireland previous to hisapplying for another ship, and, with my pay in my pocket, set off in thePlymouth mail, and in three days was once more in the arms of myaffectionate mother, and warmly greeted by my father and the remainderof my family.

Once more with my family, I must acquaint the reader with what hadoccurred since my departure. My eldest sister, Lucy, had married anofficer in the army, a Captain Fielding, and his regiment having beenordered out to India, had accompanied her husband, and letters had beenreceived, just before my return announcing their safe arrival at Ceylon.My second sister, Mary, had also been engaged to be married, and fromher infancy was of extremely delicate health. She was very handsome, andmuch admired. Her intended husband was a baronet of good family; butunfortunately, she caught a cold at the assize ball and went off in adecline. She died about two months before my arrival, and the familywere in deep mourning. My third sister, Ellen, was still unmarried; shealso was a very beautiful girl, and now seventeen. My mother'sconstitution was much shaken by the loss of my sister Mary, and theseparation from her eldest child. As for my father, even the loss of hisdaughter appeared to be wholly forgotten in the unwelcome intelligencewhich he had received, that my uncle's wife had been safely delivered ofa _son_, which threw him out of the anticipated titles and estates of mygrandfather. It was indeed a house of mourning. My mother's grief Irespected, and tried all I could to console her; that of my father wasso evidently worldly, and so at variance with his clerical profession,that I must acknowledge I felt more of anger at it than sorrow. He hadbecome morose and sullen, harsh to those around him, and not so kind tomy mother as her state of mind and health made it his duty to be, evenif inclination were wanted. He seldom passed any portion of the day withher, and in the evening she went to bed very early, so that there waslittle communication between them. My sister was a great consolation toher, and so I hope was I; she often said so as she embraced me, and thetears rolled down her cheeks, and I could not help surmising that thosetears were doubled from the coolness and indifference, if notunkindness, with which my father behaved to her. As for my sister, shewas an angel; and as I witnessed her considerate attentions to mymother, and the total forgetfulness of self which she displayed (sodifferent from my father, who was all self), I often thought what atreasure she would prove to any man who was fortunate enough to win herlove. Such was the state of my family when I returned to it.

I had been at home about a week, when one evening, after dinner, Isubmitted to my father the propriety of trying to obtain my promotion.

"I can do nothing for you, Peter; I have no interest whatever," repliedhe, moodily.

"I do not think that much is required, sir," replied I; "my time will beserved on the 20th of next month. If I pass, which I trust I shall beable to do, my name having been mentioned in the public despatches willrender it a point of no very great difficulty to obtain my commission atthe request of my grandfather."

"Yes, your grandfather might succeed, I have no doubt; but I think youhave little chance now in that quarter. My brother has a son, and we arethrown out. You are not aware, Peter, how selfish people are, and howlittle they will exert themselves for their relations. Your grandfatherhas never invited me since the announcement of my brother's increase tohis family. Indeed, I have never been near him, for I know that it is ofno use."

"I must think otherwise of Lord Privilege, my dear father, until youropinion is confirmed by his own conduct. That I am not so much an objectof interest, I grant; but still he was very kind, and appeared to bepartial to me."

"Well, well, you can try all you can, but you'll soon see of what stuffthis world is made; I am sure I hope it will be so, for what is tobecome of you children if I die, I do not know;--I have saved little ornothing. And now all my prospects are blasted by this--" and my fatherdashed his fist upon the table in a manner by no means clerical, andwith a look very unworthy of an apostle.

I am sorry that I must thus speak of my father, but I must not disguisethe truth. Still, I must say, there was much in extenuation of hisconduct. He had always a dislike to the profession of the church: hisambition, as a young man, had been to enter the army, for which servicehe was much better qualified; but, as it has been the custom forcenturies to entail all the property of the aristocracy upon the eldestson, and leave the other brothers to be supported by the state, orrather by the people, who are taxed for their provision, my father wasnot permitted to follow the bent of his own inclination. An elderbrother had already selected the army as his profession, and it wastherefore decided that my father should enter the church; and thus it isthat we have had, and still have, so many people in that profession, whoare not only totally unfit for, but who actually disgrace, theircalling. The law of primogeniture is beset with evils and injustice; yetwithout it, the aristocracy of a country must sink into insignificance.It appears to me, that as long as the people of a country are content tosupport the younger sons of the nobility, it is well that thearistocracy should be held up as a third estate, and a link between thesovereign and the people; but that if the people are either too poor, orare unwilling to be so taxed, they have a right to refuse taxation forsuch purposes, and to demand that the law of primogeniture should beabolished.

I remained at home until my time was complete, and then set off forPlymouth to undergo my examination. The passing-day had been fixed bythe admiral for the Friday, and, as I arrived on Wednesday, I amusedmyself during the day, walking about the dockyard, and trying all Icould to obtain further information in my profession. On the Thursday, aparty of soldiers from the depot were embarking at the landing-place inmen-of-war boats, and, as I understood, were about to proceed to India.I witnessed the embarkation, and waited till they shoved off, and thenwalked to the anchor wharf to ascertain the weights of the respectiveanchors of the different classes of vessels in the King's service.

I had not been there long, when I was attracted by the squabblingcreated by a soldier, who, it appeared, had quitted the ranks to run upto the tap in the dockyard to obtain liquor. He was very drunk, and wasfollowed by a young woman with a child in her arms, who was endeavouringto pacify him.

"Now be quiet, Patrick, jewel," said she, clinging to him; "sure it'senough that you've left the ranks, and will come to disgrace when youget on board. Now be quiet, Patrick, and let us ask for a boat, and thenperhaps the officer will think it was all a mistake, and let you offaisy; and sure I'll speak to Mr O'Rourke, and he's a kind man."

"Out wid you, you cratur, it is Mr O'Rourke you'd be having aconversation wid, and he be chucking you under that chin of yours. Outwid you, Mary, and lave me to find my way on board. Is it a boat I want,when I can swim like St Patrick, wid my head under my arm, if it wasn'ton my shoulders? At all events, I can wid my nappersack and musket toboot."

The young woman cried, and tried to restrain him, but he broke from her,and running down to the wharf, dashed off into the water. The youngwoman ran to the edge of the wharf, perceived him sinking, and shriekingwith despair, threw up her arms in her agony. The child fell, struck onthe edge of the piles, turned over, and before I could catch hold of it,sank into the sea. "The child! the child!" burst forth in another wildscream, and the poor creature lay at my feet in violent fits. I lookedover, the child had disappeared; but the soldier was still strugglingwith his head above water. He sank and rose again--a boat was pullingtowards him, but he was quite exhausted. He threw back his arms as if indespair, and was about disappearing under a wave, when, no longer ableto restrain myself, I leaped off the high wharf, and swam to hisassistance, just in time to lay hold of him as he was sinking for thelast time. I had not been in the water a quarter of a minute before theboat came up to us, and dragged us on board. The soldier was exhaustedand speechless. I, of course, was only very wet. The boat rowed to thelanding-place at my request, and we were both put on shore. The knapsackwhich was fixed on the soldier's back, and his regimentals, indicatedthat he belonged to the regiment just embarked; and I stated my opinionthat, as soon as he was a little recovered, he had better be taken onboard. As the boat which picked us up was one of the men-of-war boats,the officer who had been embarking the troops, and had been sent onshore again to know if there were any yet left behind, consented. In afew minutes the soldier recovered, and was able to sit up and speak, andI only waited to ascertain the state of the poor young woman whom I hadleft on the wharf. In a few minutes she was led to us by the warder, andthe scene between her and her husband was most affecting. When she hadbecome a little composed, she turned round to me, where I stood drippingwet, and, intermingled with lamentation for the child, showering downemphatic blessings on my head, inquired my name. "Give it to me!" shecried; "give it to me on paper, in writing, that I may wear it next myheart, read and kiss it every day of my life, and never forget to prayfor you, and to bless you!"

"I'll tell it you. My name--"

"Nay, write it down for me--write it down. Sure you'll not refuse me.All the saints bless you, dear young man, for saving a poor woman fromdespair!"

The officer commanding the boat handed me a pencil and a card; I wrotemy name and gave it to the poor woman; she took my hand as I gave it,kissed the card repeatedly, and put it into her bosom. The officer,impatient to shove off, ordered her husband into the boat--she followed,clinging to him, wet as he was--the boat shoved off, and I hastened upto the inn to dry my clothes. I could not help observing, at the time,how the fear of a greater evil will absorb all consideration for aminor. Satisfied that her husband had not perished, she had hardly onceappeared to remember that she had lost her child.

I had only brought one suit of clothes with me: they were in very goodcondition when I arrived, but salt water plays the devil with a uniform.I laid in bed until they were dry; but when I put them on again, notbeing before too large for me, for I grew very fast, they were nowshrunk and shrivelled up, so as to be much too small. My wrists appearedbelow the sleeves of my coat--my trousers had shrunk half way up to myknees--the buttons were all tarnished, and altogether I certainly didnot wear the appearance of a gentlemanly, smart midshipman. I would haveordered another suit, but the examination was to take place at teno'clock the next morning, and there was no time. I was therefore obligedto appear as I was, on the quarter-deck of the line-of-battle ship, onboard of which the passing was to take place. Many others were there toundergo the same ordeal, all strangers to me, and as I perceived bytheir nods and winks to each other, as they walked up and down in theirsmart clothes, not at all inclined to make my acquaintance.

There were many before me on the list, and our hearts beat every timethat a name was called, and the owner of it walked aft into the cabin.Some returned with jocund faces, and our hopes mounted with theanticipation of similar good fortune; others came out melancholy andcrest-fallen, and then the expression of their countenances wascommunicated to our own, and we quailed with fear and apprehension. Ihave no hesitation in asserting, that although "passing" may be a proofof being qualified, "not passing" is certainly no proof to the contrary.I have known many of the cleverest young men turned back (while othersof inferior abilities have succeeded), merely from the feeling of aweoccasioned by the peculiarity of the situation: and it is not to bewondered at, when it is considered that all the labour and exertion ofsix years are at stake at this appalling moment. At last my name wascalled, and almost breathless from anxiety, I entered the cabin, where Ifound myself in presence of the three captains who were to decidewhether I were fit to hold a commission in His Majesty's service. Mylogs and certificates were examined and approved; my time calculated andallowed to be correct. The questions in navigation which were put to mewere very few, for the best of all possible reasons, that most captainsin His Majesty's service know little or nothing of navigation. Duringtheir servitude as midshipmen, they learn it by _rote_, without beingaware of the principles upon which the calculations they use arefounded. As lieutenants, their services as to navigation are seldomrequired, and they rapidly forget all about it. As captains, their wholeremnant of mathematical knowledge consists in being able to set down theship's position on the chart. As for navigating the ship, the master isanswerable; and the captains not being responsible themselves, theytrust entirely to his reckoning. Of course there are exceptions, butwhat I state is the fact; and if an order from the Admiralty was given,that all captains should pass again, although they might acquitthemselves very well in seamanship, nineteen out of twenty would beturned back when they were questioned in navigation. It is from theknowledge of this fact that I think the service is injured by thepresent system, and the captain should be held _wholly _responsible forthe navigation of his ship. It has been long known that the officers ofevery other maritime state are more scientific than our own, which iseasily explained, from the responsibility not being invested in ourcaptains. The origin of masters in our service is singular. When Englandfirst became a maritime power, ships for the King's service were foundby the Cinque Ports and other parties--the fighting part of the crew wascomposed of soldiers sent on board. All the vessels at that time had acrew of sailors, with a master to navigate the vessel. During our bloodynaval engagements with the Dutch, the same system was acted upon. Ithink it was the Earl of Sandwich, of whom it is stated, that his shipbeing in a sinking state, he took a boat to hoist his flag on board ofanother vessel in the fleet, but a shot cutting the boat in two, and the_weight of his armour_ bearing him down, the Earl of Sandwich perished.But to proceed.

As soon as I had answered several questions satisfactorily, I wasdesired to stand up. The captain who had interrogated me on navigation,was very grave in his demeanour towards me, but at the same time notuncivil. During his examination, he was not interfered with by the othertwo, who only undertook the examination in "seamanship." The captain,who now desired me to stand up, spoke in a very harsh tone, and quitefrightened me. I stood up pale and trembling, for I augured no good fromthis commencement. Several questions in seamanship were put to me, whichI have no doubt I answered in a very lame way, for I cannot even nowrecollect what I said.

"I thought so," observed the captain; "I judged as much from yourappearance. An officer who is so careless of his dress, as not even toput on a decent coat when he appears at his examination, generally turnsout an idle fellow, and no seaman. One would think you had served allyour time in a cutter, or a ten-gun brig, instead of dashing frigates.Come, sir, I'll give you one more chance."

I was so hurt at what the captain said, that I could not control myfeelings. I replied, with a quivering lip, "that I had had no time toorder another uniform,"--and I burst into tears.

"Indeed, Burrows, you are rather too harsh," said the third captain;"the lad is frightened. Let him sit down and compose himself for alittle while. Sit down, Mr Simple, and we will try you again directly."

I sat down, checking my grief and trying to recall my scattered senses.The captains, in the meantime, turning over the logs to pass away thetime; the one who had questioned me in navigation reading the Plymouthnewspaper, which had a few minutes before been brought on board and sentinto the cabin. "Heh! what's this? I say Burrows--Keats, look here," andhe pointed to a paragraph. "Mr Simple, may I ask whether it was you whosaved the soldier who leaped off the wharf yesterday?"

"Yes, sir," replied I; "and that's the reason why my uniforms are soshabby. I spoilt them then, and had no time to order others. I did notlike to say why they were spoilt." I saw a change in the countenances ofall the three, and it gave me courage. Indeed, now that my feelings hadfound vent, I was no longer under any apprehension.

"Come, Mr Simple, stand up again," said the captain, kindly, "that is,if you feel sufficiently composed; if not, we will wait a little longer.Don't be afraid, we _wish_ to pass you."

I was not afraid, and stood up immediately. I answered every questionsatisfactorily; and finding that I did so, they put more difficult ones."Very good, very good indeed, Mr Simple; now let me ask you one more;it's seldom done in the service, and perhaps you may not be able toanswer it. Do you know how to _club-haul_ a ship?"

"Yes, sir," replied I, having, as the reader may recollect, witnessedthe manoeuvre when serving under poor Captain Savage, and I immediatelystated how it was to be done.

"That is sufficient, Mr Simple. I wish to ask you no more questions. Ithought at first you were a careless officer and no seaman: I now findthat you are a good seaman and a gallant young man. Do you wish to askany more questions?" continued he, turning to the two others.

They replied in the negative; my passing certificate was signed, and thecaptains did me the honour to shake hands with me, and wish me speedypromotion. Thus ended happily this severe trial to my poor nerves; and,as I came out of the cabin, no one could have imagined that I had beenin such distress within, when they beheld the joy that irradiated mycountenance.

Chapter XXXIX

Is a chapter of plots--Catholic casuistry in a new cassock--Plottingpromotes promotion--A peasant's love and a peer's peevishness--Prospectsof prosperity.

As soon as I arrived at the hotel, I sent for a Plymouth paper, and cutout the paragraph which had been of such importance to me in myemergency, and the next morning returned home to receive thecongratulations of my family. I found a letter from O'Brien, which hadarrived the day before. It was as follows:--

"MY DEAR PETER,--Some people, they say, are lucky to 'have a father born before them,' because they are helped on in the world--upon which principle, mine was born _after_ me, that's certain; however, that can't be helped. I found all my family well and hearty; but they all shook a cloth in the wind with respect to toggery. As for Father M'Grath's cassock, he didn't complain of it without reason. It was the ghost of a garment; but, however, with the blessing of God, my last quarterly bill, and the help of a tailor, we have had a regular refit, and the ancient family of the O'Briens of Ballyhinch are now rigged from stem to starn. My two sisters are both to be spliced to young squireens in the neighbourhood; it appears that they only wanted for a dacent town gown to go to the church in. They will be turned off next Friday, and I only wish, Peter, you were here to dance at the weddings. Never mind, I'll dance for you and for myself too. In the meantime, I'll just tell you what Father M'Grath and I have been doing, all about and consarning that thief of an uncle of yours.

"It's very little or nothing at all that Father M'Grath did before I came back, seeing as how Father O'Toole had a new cassock, and Father M'Grath's was so shabby that he couldn't face him under such a disadvantage; but still Father M'Grath spied about him, and had several hints from here and from there, all of which, when I came to add them up, amounted to just nothing at all.

"But since I came home, we have been busy. Father M'Grath went down to Ballycleuch, as bold as a lion in his new clothing, swearing that he'd lead Father O'Toole by the nose for slamming the door in his face, and so he would have done, if he could have found him; but as he wasn't to be found, Father M'Grath came back again just as wise, and quite as brave, as he went out.

"So, Peter, I just took a walk that way myself, and, as I surrounded the old house where your uncle had taken up his quarters, who should I meet but the little girl, Ella Flanagan, who was in his service; and I said to myself, 'There's two ways of obtaining things in this world, one is for love, and the other is for money.' The O'Briens are better off in the first article than in the last, as most of their countrymen are, so I've been spending it very freely in your service, Peter.

"'Sure,' says I, 'you are the little girl that my eyes were ever looking upon when last I was in this way.'

"'And who are you?' says she.

"'Lieutenant O'Brien, of his Majesty's service, just come home for a minute to look out for a wife,' says I; 'and it's one about your make, and shape, and discretion that would please my fancy.'

"And then I praised her eyes, and her nose, and her forehead, and so downwards, until I came to the soles of her feet; and asked her leave to see her again, and when she would meet me in the wood and tell me her mind. At first, she thought (sure enough) that I couldn't be in earnest, but I swore by all the saints that she was the prettiest girl in the parts--and so she is altogether--and then she listened to my blarney. The devil a word did I say about your uncle, or your aunt, or Father M'Grath, that she might not suspect for I've an idea that they're all in the story. I only talked about my love for her pretty self, and that blinded her, as it will all women, 'cute as they may be.

"And now, Peter, it's three weeks last Sunday, that I've been bespeaking this poor girl for your sake, and my conscience tells me that it's not right to make the poor crature fond of me, seeing as how that I don't care a fig for her in the way of a wife, and in any other way it would be the ruin of the poor thing. I have spoken to Father M'Grath on the subject, who says, 'that we may do evil that good may come, and that, if she has been a party to the deceit, it's nothing but proper that she should be punished in this world, and that will, perhaps, save her in the next;' still I don't like it, Peter, and it's only for you among the living that I'd do such a thing; for the poor creature now hangs upon me so fondly, and talks about the wedding-day; and tells me long stories about the connections which have taken place between the O'Flanagans and the O'Briens, times bygone, when they were all in their glory. Yesterday, as we sat in the wood, with her arm round my waist, 'Ella, dear,' says I, 'who are these people that you stay with?' And then she told me all she knew about their history, and how Mary Sullivan was a nurse to the baby.

"'And what is the baby?' says I.

"'A boy, sure,' says she.

"'And Sullivan's baby?'

"'That's a girl.'

"'And is Mary Sullivan there now?'

"'No' says she; 'it's yestreen she left with her husband and baby, to join the regiment that's going out to Ingy.'

"'Yesterday she left?' says I, starting up.

"'Yes,' replies she, 'and what do you care about them?'

"'It's very much I care,' replied I, 'for a little bird has whispered a secret to me.'

"'And what may that be?' says she.

"'Only that the childer were changed, and you know it as well as I do.' But she swore that she knew nothing about it, and that she was not there when either of the children was born, and I believe that she told the truth. 'Well,' says I, 'who tended the lady?'

"'My own mother,' says Ella. 'And if it was so, who can know but she?'

"Then,' says I, 'Ella, jewel, I've made a vow that I'll never marry till I find out the truth of this matter; so the sooner you get it out of your mother the better.' Then she cried very much, and I was almost ready to cry too, to see how the poor thing was vexed at the idea of not being married. After a while, she swabbed up her cheeks, and kissing me, wished me good-by, swearing by all the saints that the truth should come out, somehow or another.

"It's this morning that I saw her again, as agreed upon yesterday, and red her eyes were with weeping, poor thing; and she clung to me, and begged me to forgive her, and not to leave her; and then she told me that her mother was startled when she put the question to her, and chewed it, and cursed her when she insisted upon the truth; and how she had fallen on her knees, and begged her mother not to stand in the way of her happiness, as she would die if she did (I leave you to guess if my heart didn't smite me when she said that, Peter, but the mischief was done), and how her mother had talked about her oath and Father O'Toole, and said that she would speak to him.

"Now, Peter, I'm sure that the childer have been changed, and that the nurse has been sent to the Indies to be out of the way. They say they were to go to Plymouth. The husband's name is, of course, O'Sullivan; so I'd recommend you to take a coach and see what you can do in that quarter; in the meantime I'll try all I can for the truth in this, and will write again as soon as I can find out anything more. All I want to do is to get Father M'Grath to go to the old devil of a mother, and I'll answer for it, he'll frighten her into swearing anything. God bless you, Peter, and give my love to all the family.

"Yours ever,

"TERENCE O'BRIEN."

This letter of O'Brien was the subject of much meditation. The advice togo to Plymouth was too late, the troops having sailed some time; and Ihad no doubt but that Mary Sullivan and her husband were among those whohad embarked at the time that I was at that port to pass my examination.Show the letter to my father I would not, as it would only have put himin a fever, and his interference would, in all probability, have donemore harm than good. I therefore waited quietly for more intelligence,and resolved to apply to my grandfather to obtain my promotion.

A few days afterwards I set off for Eagle Park, and arrived about eleveno'clock in the morning. I sent in my name, and was admitted into thelibrary, where I found Lord Privilege in his easy chair as usual.

"Well, child," said he, remaining on his chair, and not offering even_one_ finger to me, "what do you want, that you come here without aninvitation?"

"Only, my lord, to inquire after your health, and to thank you for yourkindness to me in procuring me and Mr O'Brien the appointment to a finefrigate."

"Yes," replied his lordship, "I recollect--I think I did so, at yourrequest, and I think I heard some one say that you have behaved well,and had been mentioned in the despatches."

"Well, child, I'm glad to hear it. Remember me to your father andfamily." And his lordship cast his eyes down upon the book which he hadbeen reading.

My father's observations appeared to be well grounded, but I would notleave the room until I had made some further attempt.

"Has your lordship heard from my uncle?"

"Yes," replied he, "I had a letter from him yesterday. The child isquite well. I expect them all here in a fortnight or three weeks, tolive with me altogether. I am old--getting very old, and I shall havemuch to arrange with your uncle before I die."

"If I might request a favour of your lordship, it would be to beg thatyou would interest yourself a little in obtaining my promotion. A letterfrom your lordship to the First Lord--only a few lines--"

"Well, child, I see no objection--only--I am very old, too old to writenow." And his lordship again commenced reading.

I must do Lord Privilege the justice to state that he evidently was fastverging to a state of second childhood. He was much bowed down since Ihad last seen him, and appeared infirm in body as well as mind.

I waited at least a quarter of an hour before his lordship looked up.

"What, not gone yet, child? I thought you had gone home."

"Your lordship was kind enough to say that you had no objection to writea few lines to the First Lord in my behalf. I trust your lordship willnot refuse me."

This was more than I did. I had a great mind to show him O'Brien'sletter, but I thought it would be cruel to raise doubts, and harass themind of a person so close to the brink of the grave. The truth wouldnever be ascertained during his life, I thought, and why, therefore,should I give him pain? At all events, although I had the letter in mypocket, I resolved not to make use of it except as a _dernier_ resort.

I went to another table, and sat down to write the letter. As hislordship had said that I might write what I pleased, it occurred to methat I might assist O'Brien, and I felt sure that his lordship would nottake the trouble to read the letter. I therefore wrote as follows, whileLord Privilege continued to read his book:--

"MY LORD,--You will confer a very great favour upon me, if you will hasten the commission which, I have no doubt, is in preparation for my nephew, Mr Simple, who has passed his examination, and has been mentioned in the public despatches, and also that you will not lose sight of Lieutenant O'Brien, who has so distinguished himself by his gallantry in the various cutting-out expeditions in the West Indies. Trusting that your lordship will not fail to comply with my earnest request, I have the honour to be, your lordship's very obedient humble servant."

I brought this letter, with a pen full of ink, and the noise of myapproach induced his lordship to look up. He stared at first, as havingforgotten the whole circumstance--then said--"Oh yes! I recollect, so Idid--give me the pen." With a trembling hand he signed his name, andgave me back the letter without reading it, as I expected.

I wished his lordship a good morning, and went away well satisfied withthe result of my expedition. On my arrival I showed the letter to myfather, who was much surprised at my success, and he assured me that mygrandfather's interest was so great with the administration, that Imight consider my promotion as certain. That no accident might happen, Iimmediately set off for London, and delivered the letter at the door ofthe First Lord with my own hands, leaving my address with the porter.

Chapter XL

O'Brien and myself take a step each, _pari passu_--A family reunionproductive of anything but unity--My uncle not always the best friend.

A few days afterwards I left my card with my address with the FirstLord, and the next day received a letter from his secretary, which, tomy delight, informed me that my commission had been made out some daysbefore. I hardly need say that I hastened to take it up, and when payingmy fee to the clerk, I ventured, at a hazard, to inquire whether he knewthe address of Lieutenant O'Brien.

"No," replied he, "I wish to find it out, for he has this day beenpromoted to the rank of Commander."

I almost leaped with joy when I heard this good news. I gave O'Brien'saddress to the clerk, hastened away with my invaluable piece ofparchment in my hand, and set off immediately for my father's house.

But I was met with sorrow. My mother had been taken severely ill, and Ifound the house in commotion--doctors, and apothecaries, and nurses,running to and fro, my father in a state of excitement, and my dearsister in tears. Spasm succeeded spasm; and although every remedy wasapplied, the next evening she breathed her last. I will not attempt todescribe the grief of my father, who appeared to feel remorse at hislate unkind treatment of her, my sister, and myself. These scenes mustbe imagined by those who have suffered under similar bereavements. Iexerted myself to console my poor sister, who appeared to cling to me asto her only support, and, after the funeral was over, we recovered ourtranquillity, although the mourning was still deeper in our hearts thanin our outward dress. I had written to O'Brien to announce the mournfulintelligence, and, like a true friend, he immediately made hisappearance to console me.

O'Brien had received the letter from the Admiralty, acquainting him withhis promotion; and, two days after he arrived, went to take up hiscommission. I told him frankly by what means he had obtained it, and heagain concluded his thanks by a reference to the mistake of the formersupposition, that of my being "the fool of the family."

"By the powers, it would be well for any man if he had a few of suchfoolish friends about him," continued he; "but I won't blarney you,Peter; you know what my opinion always has been, so we'll say no moreabout it."

When he came back, we had a long consultation as to the best method ofproceeding to obtain employment, for O'Brien was anxious to be againafloat, and so was I. I regretted parting with my sister, but my fatherwas so morose and ill-tempered, that I had no pleasure at home, exceptin her company. Indeed, my sister was of opinion, that it would bebetter if I were away, as my father's misanthropy, now unchecked by mymother, appeared to have increased, and he seemed to view me withpositive dislike. It was, therefore, agreed unanimously between mysister, and me, and O'Brien, who was always of our councils, that itwould be advisable that I should be again afloat.

"I can manage him much better when alone, Peter; I shall have nothing tooccupy me, and take me away from him, as your presence does now; and,painful as it is to part with you, my duty to my father, and my wish foryour advancement, induce me to request that you will, if possible, findsome means of obtaining employment."

"Spoken like a hero, as ye are, Miss Ellen, notwithstanding your prettyface and soft eyes," said O'Brien. "And now, Peter, for the means tobring it about. If I can get a ship, there is no fear for you, as Ishall choose you for my lieutenant; but how is that to be managed? Doyou think that you can come over the old gentleman at Eagle Park?"

"At all events, I'll try," replied I; "I can but be floored, O'Brien."

Accordingly, the next day I set off for my grandfather's, and was putdown at the lodge, at the usual hour, about eleven o'clock. I walked upthe avenue, and knocked at the door: when it was opened, I perceived ahesitation among the servants, and a constrained air, which I did notlike. I inquired after Lord Privilege--the answer was, that he waspretty well, but did not see _any_ body.

"Is my uncle here?" said I.

"Yes, sir," replied the servant, with a significant look, "and all hisfamily are here too."

"Are you sure that I cannot see my _grandfather_" said I, laying astress upon the word.

"I will tell him that you are here, sir," replied the man, "but eventhat is against orders."

I had never seen my uncle since I was a child, and could not evenrecollect him--my cousins, or my aunt, I had never met with. In a minutean answer was brought, requesting that I would walk into the library.When I was ushered in, I found myself in the presence of Lord Privilege,who sat in his usual place, and a tall gentleman, whom I knew at once tobe my uncle, from his likeness to my father.

"Here is the young gentleman, my lord," said my uncle, looking at mesternly.

"Reports are certainly very much against you, nephew," observed myuncle, drily. "Some one has told your grandfather what has muchdispleased him. I know nothing about it myself."

"Then some rascal has slandered me, sir," replied I.

My uncle started at the word rascal; and then recovering himself,replied, "Well, nephew, what is it that you require of Lord Privilege,for I presume this visit is not without a cause?"

"Sir," replied I, "my visit to Lord Privilege was, first to thank himfor having procured me my commission as lieutenant, and to request thefavour that he would obtain me active employment, which a line from himwill effect immediately."

"I was not aware, nephew, that you had been made lieutenant; but I agreewith you, that the more you are at sea the better. His lordship shallsign the letter. Sit down."

"Shall I write it, sir?" said I to my uncle: "I know what to say."

"Yes; and bring it to me when it is written."

I felt convinced that the only reason which induced my uncle to obtainme employment was the idea that I should be better out of the way, andthat there was more risk at sea than on shore. I took a sheet of paper,and wrote as follows:--

"My LORD,--May I request that your lordship will be pleased to appoint the bearer of this to a ship, as soon as convenient, as I wish him to be actively employed.

"I am, my lord, &c, &c."

"Why not mention your name?"

"It is of no consequence," replied I, "as it will be delivered inperson, and that will insure my speedy appointment."

The letter was placed before his lordship for signature. It was withsome difficulty that he was made to understand that he was to sign it.The old gentleman appeared much more imbecile than when I last saw him.I thanked him, folded up the letter, and put it in my pocket. At last helooked at me, and a sudden flash of recollection appeared to come acrosshis mind.

"Well child so you escaped from the French prison--heh! and how's yourfriend--what is his name, heh?"

"O'Brien, my lord."

"O'Brien!" cried my uncle, "he is _your_ friend; then, sir, I presume itis to you that I am indebted for all the inquiries and reports which areso industriously circulated in Ireland--the tampering with my servants--and other impertinences?"

I did not choose to deny the truth, although I was a little fluttered bythe sudden manner in which it came to light. I replied, "I never tamperwith any people's servants, sir."

"No," said he, "but you employ others so to do. I discovered the wholeof your proceedings after the scoundrel left for England."

"As you please, sir," replied my uncle, in a passion; "but you willoblige me by quitting this house immediately, and expect nothing more,either from the present or the future Lord Privilege, except thatretaliation which your infamous conduct has deserved."

I felt much irritated, and replied very sharply, "From the present LordPrivilege I certainly expect nothing more, neither do I from hissuccessor; but after your death, uncle, I expect that the person whosucceeds to the title will do all he can for your humble servant. I wishyou a good morning, uncle."

My uncle's eyes flashed fire as I finished my speech, which indeed was avery bold, and a very foolish one too, as it afterwards proved. Ihastened out of the room, not only from the fear of being turned out ofthe house before all the servants, but also from the dread that myletter to the First Lord might be taken from me by force; but I shallnever forget the scowl of vengeance which crossed my uncle's brows, as Iturned round and looked at him as I shut the door. I found my way outwithout the assistance of the servants, and hastened home as fast as Icould.

"O'Brien," said I, on my return, "there is no time to be lost; thesooner you hasten to town with this letter of introduction, the betterit will be, for depend upon it my uncle will do me all the harm that hecan." I then repeated to him all that had passed, and it was agreed thatO'Brien should take the letter, which, having reference to the bearer,would do as well for him as for me; and, if O'Brien obtained anappointment, I was sure not only of being one of his lieutenants, butalso of sailing with a dear friend. The next morning O'Brien set off forLondon, and fortunately saw the First Lord the day after his arrival,which was a levee day. The First Lord received the letter from O'Brien,and requested him to sit down. He then read it, inquired after hislordship, asked whether his health was good, &c.

O'Brien replied, "that with the blessing of God, his lordship might livemany years: that he had never heard him complain of ill health." Allwhich was not false, if not true. I could not help observing to O'Brien,when he returned home and told me what had passed, "that I thought,considering what he had expressed with respect to white lies and blacklies, that he had not latterly adhered to his own creed."

"That's very true, Peter; and I've thought of it myself, but it is mycreed nevertheless. We all know what's right, but we don't always followit. The fact is, I begin to think that it is absolutely necessary tofight the world with its own weapons. I spoke to Father M'Grath on thesubject, and he replied--'That if anyone, by doing wrong, necessitatedanother to do wrong to circumvent him, that the first party wasanswerable, not only for his own sin, but also for the sin committed inself-defence."

"But, O'Brien, I do not fix my faith so implicitly upon Father M'Grath;and I do not much admire many of his directions."

"No more do I, Peter, when I think upon them; but how am I to puzzle myhead upon these points? All I know is, that when you are divided betweenyour inclination and your duty, it's mighty convenient to have a priestlike Father M'Grath to decide for you, and to look after your soul intothe bargain."

It occurred to me that I myself, when finding fault with O'Brien, had,in the instance of both the letters from Lord Privilege, been alsoguilty of deceit. I was therefore blaming him for the same faultcommitted by myself; and I am afraid that I was too ready in consolingmyself with Father M'Grath's maxim, "that one might do evil that goodmight come." But to return to O'Brien's interview.

After some little conversation, the First Lord said, "Captain O'Brien, Iam always very ready to oblige Lord Privilege, and the more so as hisrecommendation is of an officer of your merit. In a day or two, if youcall at the Admiralty, you will hear further." O'Brien wrote to usimmediately, and we waited with impatience for his next letter: but,instead of the letter, he made his appearance on the third day, andfirst hugged me in his arms, he then came to my sister, embraced her,and skipped and danced about the room.

"What is the matter, O'Brien?" said I, while Ellen retreated inconfusion.

O'Brien pulled a parchment out of his pocket. "Here, Peter, my dearPeter; now for honour and glory. An eighteen-gun brig, Peter. The_Rattlesnake_--Captain O'Brien--West India station. By the holy father!my heart's bursting with joy!" and down he sank into an easy chair."A'n't I almost beside myself?" inquired he, after a short pause.

"Ellen thinks so, I dare say," replied I, looking at my sister, whostood in the corner of the room, thinking O'Brien was really out of hissenses, and still red with confusion.

O'Brien, who then called to mind what a slip of decorum he had beenguilty of, immediately rose, and resuming his usual unsophisticatedpoliteness, as he walked up to my sister, took her hand, and said,"Excuse me, my dear Miss Ellen; I must apologize for my rudeness; but mydelight was so great, and my gratitude to your brother so intense, thatI am afraid that in my warmth I allowed the expression of my feelings toextend to one so dear to him, and so like him in person and in mind.Will you only consider that you received the overflowings of a gratefulheart towards your brother, and for his sake pardon my indiscretion?"

Ellen smiled, and held out her hand to O'Brien, who led her to the sofa,where we all three sat down: and he then commenced a more intelligiblenarrative of what had passed. He had called on the day appointed, andsent up his card. The First Lord could not see him, but referred him tothe private secretary, who presented him with his commission to the_Rattlesnake_, eighteen-gun brig. The secretary smiled most graciously,and told O'Brien in confidence that he would proceed to the West Indiastation as soon as his vessel was manned and ready for sea. He inquiredof O'Brien whom he wished as his first lieutenant. O'Brien replied thathe wished for me; but as, in all probability, I should not be ofsufficient standing to be first lieutenant, that the Admiralty mightappoint any other to the duty, provided I joined the ship. The secretarymade a minute of O'Brien's wish, and requested him, if he had a vacancyto spare as midshipman, to allow him to send one on board; to whichO'Brien willingly acceded, shook hands with him, and O'Brien quitted theAdmiralty to hasten down to us with the pleasing intelligence.

"And now," said O'Brien, "I have made up my mind how to proceed. I shallfirst run down to Plymouth and hoist my pennant; then I shall ask for afortnight's leave, and go to Ireland to see how they get on, and whatFather M'Grath may be about. So, Peter, let's pass this evening ashappily as we can; for though you and I shall soon meet again, yet itmay be years, or perhaps never, that we three shall sit down on the samesofa as we do now."

Ellen, who was still nervous, from the late death of my mother, lookeddown, and I perceived the tears start in her eyes at the remark ofO'Brien, that perhaps we should never meet again. And I did pass a happyevening. I had a dear sister on one side of me, and a sincere friend onthe other. How few situations more enviable!

O'Brien left us early the next morning; and at breakfast-time a letterwas handed to my father. It was from my uncle, coldly communicating tohim that Lord Privilege had died the night before, very suddenly, andinforming him that the burial would take place on that day week, andthat the will would be opened immediately after the funeral. My fatherhanded the letter over to me without saying a word, and sipped his teawith his tea-spoon. I cannot say that I felt very much on the occasion;but I did feel, because he had been kind to me at one time: as for myfather's feelings, I could not--or rather I should say, I did not wishto analyze them. As soon as he had finished his cup of tea, he left thebreakfast-table, and went into his study. I then communicated theintelligence to my sister Ellen.

"My God!" said she, after a pause, putting her hand up to her eyes;"what a strange unnatural state of society must we have arrived at, whenmy father can thus receive the intelligence of a parent's death! Is itnot dreadful?"

"It is, my dearest girl," replied I; "but every feeling has beensacrificed to worldly considerations and an empty name. The younger sonshave been neglected, if not deserted. Virtue, talent, everything set atnaught--intrinsic value despised--and the only claim to considerationadmitted, that of being the heir entail. When all the ties of nature arecast loose by the parents, can you be surprised if the children are nolonger bound by them? Most truly do you observe, that it is a detestablestate of society."

"I did not say detestable, brother; I said strange and unnatural."

"Had you said what I said, Ellen, you would not have been wrong. I wouldnot for the title and wealth which it brings, be the heartless,isolated, I may say neglected being that my grandfather was; were itoffered now, I would not barter for it Ellen's love."

Ellen threw herself in my arms; we then walked into the garden, where wehad a long conversation relative to our future wishes, hopes, andprospects.

Chapter XLI

Pompous obsequies--The reading of the will, not exactly after Wilkie--Iam left a legacy--What becomes of it--My father, very warm, writes asermon to cool himself--I join O'Brien's brig, and fall in withSwinburne.

On that day week I accompanied my father to Eagle Park, to assist at theburial of Lord Privilege. We were ushered into the room where the bodyhad laid in state for three days. The black hangings, the lofty plumes,the rich ornaments on the coffin, and the number of wax candles withwhich the room was lighted, produced a solemn and grand effect. I couldnot help, as I leaned against the balustrade before the coffin andthought of its contents, calling to mind when my poor grandfather'sfeelings seemed, as it were, inclined to thaw in my favour, when hecalled me "his child," and, in all probability, had not my uncle had ason, would have died in my arms, fond and attached to me for my ownsake, independently of worldly considerations. I felt that had I knownhim longer, I could have loved him, and that he would have loved me; andI thought to myself, how little all these empty honours, after hisdecease, could compensate for the loss of those reciprocal feelings,which would have so added to his happiness during his existence. But hehad lived for pomp and vanity; and pomp and vanity attended him to hisgrave. I thought of my sister Ellen, and of O'Brien, and walked awaywith the conviction that Peter Simple might have been an object of envyto the late Right Honourable Lord Viscount Privilege, Baron Corston,Lord Lieutenant of the county, and one of His Majesty's Most HonourablePrivy Councillors.

When the funeral, which was very tedious and very splendid, was over, weall returned in the carriages to Eagle Park, when my uncle, who had ofcourse assumed the title, and who had attended as chief mourner, was inwaiting to receive us. We were shown into the library, and in the chairso lately and constantly occupied by my grandfather, sat the new lord.Near to him were the lawyers, with parchments lying before them. As weseverally entered, he waved his hand to unoccupied chairs, intimating tous to sit down; but no words were exchanged, except an occasionalwhisper between him and the lawyers. When all the branches of the familywere present, down to the fourth and fifth cousins, the lawyer on theright of my uncle put on his spectacles, and unrolling the parchmentcommenced reading the will. I paid attention to it at first; but thelegal technicalities puzzled me, and I was soon thinking of othermatters, until after half an hour's reading, I was startled at the soundof my own name. It was a bequest by codicil to me, of the sum of tenthousand pounds. My father who sat by me, gave me a slight push, toattract my attention; and I perceived that his face was not quite somournful as before. I was rejoicing at this unexpected intelligence. Icalled to mind what my father had said to me when we were returning fromEagle Park, "that my grandfather's attentions to me were as good as tenthousand pounds in his will," and was reflecting how strange it was thathe had hit upon the exact sum. I also thought of what my father had saidof his own affairs, and his not having saved anything for his children,and congratulated myself that I should now be able to support my dearsister Ellen, in case of any accident happening to my father, when I wasroused by another mention of my name. It was a codicil dated about aweek back, in which my grandfather, not pleased at my conduct, revokedthe former codicil, and left me nothing. I knew where the blow camefrom, and I looked my uncle in the face; a gleam of malignant pleasurewas in his eyes, which had been fixed on me, waiting to receive myglance. I returned it with a smile expressive of scorn and contempt, andthen looked at my father, who appeared to be in a state of misery. Hishead had fallen upon his breast, and his hands were clasped. Although Iwas shocked at the blow, for I knew how much the money was required, Ifelt too proud to show it; indeed, I felt that I would not for worldshave exchanged situations with my uncle, much less feelings; for whenthose who remain meet to ascertain the disposition made, by one who issummoned away to the tribunal of his Maker, of those worldly andperishable things which he must leave behind him, feelings of rancourand ill-will might, for the time, be permitted to subside, and thememory of a "departed brother" be productive of charity and good-will.After a little reflection, I felt that I could forgive my uncle.

Not so my father; the codicil which deprived me of my inheritance, wasthe last of the will, and the lawyer rolled up the parchment and tookoff his spectacles. Everybody rose; my father seized his hat, andtelling me in a harsh voice to follow him, tore off the crape weepers,and then threw them on the floor as he walked away. I also took offmine, and laid them on the table, and followed him. My father called hiscarriage, waited in the hall till it was driven up, and jumped into it.I followed him; he drew up the blind, and desired them to drive home.

"Not a sixpence! By the God of heaven, not a sixpence! My name not evenmentioned, except for a paltry mourning ring! And yours--pray sir, whathave you been about, after having such a sum left you, to forfeit yourgrandfather's good opinion? Heh! sir--tell me directly," continued he,turning round to me in a rage.

"And why should he be particularly your enemy? Peter, there must be somereason for his having induced your grandfather to alter his bequest inyour favour. I insist upon it, sir, that you tell me immediately."

"My dear father, when you are more calm, I will talk this matter overwith you. I hope I shall not be considered wanting in respect, when Isay, that as a clergyman of the church of England--"

"D--n the church of England, and those that put me into it!" replied myfather, maddened with rage.

I was shocked, and held my tongue. My father appeared also to beconfused at his hasty expressions. He sank back in his carriage, andpreserved a gloomy silence until we arrived at our own door. As soon aswe entered, my father hastened to his own room, and I went up to mysister Ellen, who was in her bed room. I revealed to her all that hadpassed, and advised with her on the propriety of my communicating to myfather the reasons which had occasioned my uncle's extreme aversiontowards me. After much argument, she agreed with me, that the disclosurehad now become necessary.

After the dinner-cloth had been removed, I then communicated to myfather the circumstances which had come to our knowledge relative to myuncle's establishment in Ireland. He heard me very attentively, took outtablets, and made notes.

"Well, Peter," said he, after a few minutes' silence, when I hadfinished, "I see clearly through this whole business. I have no doubtbut that a child has been substituted to defraud you and me of our justinheritance of the title and estates; but I will now set to work and tryif I cannot find out the secret; and, with the help of Captain O'Brienand Father M'Grath, I think it is not at all impossible."

"O'Brien will do all that he can, sir," replied I; "and I expect soon tohear from him. He must have now been a week in Ireland."

"I shall go there myself," replied my father; "and there are no meansthat I will not resort to, to discover this infamous plot. No,"exclaimed he, striking his fist on the table, so as to shiver two of thewine-glasses into fragments--"no means but I will resort to."

"That is," replied I, "my dear father, no means which may belegitimately employed by one of your profession."

"I tell you, no means that can be used by _man_ to recover his defraudedrights! Tell me not of legitimate means, when I am to lose a title andproperty by a spurious and illegitimate substitution! By the God ofheaven, I will meet them with fraud for fraud, with false swearing forfalse swearing, and with blood for blood, if it should be necessary! Mybrother has dissolved all ties, and I will have my right, even if Idemand it with a pistol at his ear."

"For Heaven's sake, my dear father, do not be so violent--recollect yourprofession."

"I do," replied he, bitterly; "and how I was forced into it against mywill. I recollect my father's words, the solemn coolness with which hetold me, 'I had my choice of the church, or--to starve.'--But I have mysermon to prepare for to-morrow, and I can sit here no longer. TellEllen to send me in some tea."

I did not think my father was in a very fit state of mind to write asermon, but I held my tongue. My sister joined me, and we saw no more ofhim till breakfast the next day. Before we met, I received a letter fromO'Brien.

"MY DEAR PETER,--I ran down to Plymouth, hoisted my pennant, drew my jollies from the dockyard, and set my first lieutenant to work getting in the ballast and water-tanks. I then set off for Ireland, and was very well received as Captain O'Brien by my family, who were all flourishing.

"Now that my two sisters are so well married off, my father and mother are very comfortable, but rather lonely; for I believe I told you long before, that it had pleased Heaven to take all the rest of my brothers and sisters, except the two now married, and one who bore up for a nunnery, dedicating her service to God, after she was scarred with the small-pox, and no man would look at her. Ever since the family have been grown up, my father and mother have been lamenting and sorrowing that none of them would go off; and now that they're all gone off one way or another, they cry all day because they are left all alone with no one to keep company with them, except Father M'Grath and the pigs. We never are to be contented in this world, that's sartain; and now that they are comfortable in every respect, they find that they are very uncomfortable, and having obtained all their wishes, they wish everything back again; but as old Maddocks used to say, 'A good growl is better than a bad dinner' with some people; and the greatest pleasure that they now have is to grumble; and if that makes them happy, they must be happy all day long--for the devil a bit do they leave off from morning till night.

"The first thing that I did was to send for Father M'Grath, who had been more away from home than usual--I presume, not finding things quite so comfortable as they used to be. He told me that he had met with Father O'Toole, and had a bit of a dialogue with him, which had ended in a bit of a row, and that he had cudgelled Father O'Toole well, and tore his gown off his back, and then tore it into shivers,-- that Father O'Toole had referred the case to the bishop, and that was how the matter stood just then. 'But,' says he, 'the spalpeen has left this part of the country, and, what is more, has taken Ella and her mother with him; and what is still worse, no one could find out where they were gone; but it was believed that they had all been sent over the water.' So you see, Peter, that this is a bad job in one point, which is, that we have no chance of getting the truth out of the old woman; for now that we have war with France, who is to follow them? On the other hand, it is good news; for it prevents me from decoying that poor young girl, and making her believe what will never come to pass; and I am not a little glad on that score, for Father M'Grath was told by those who were about her, that she did nothing but weep and moan for two days before she went away, scolded as she was by her mother, and threatened by that blackguard O'Toole. It appears to me, that all our hopes now are in finding out the soldier, and his wife the wet-nurse, who were sent to India--no doubt with the hope that the climate and the fevers may carry them off. That uncle of yours is a great blackguard, every bit of him. I shall leave here in three days, and you must join me at Plymouth. Make my compliments to your father, and my regards to your sister, whom may all the saints preserve! God bless her, for ever and ever. Amen.

"Yours ever,

"TERENCE O'BRIEN."

I put this letter into my father's hands when he came out of his room."This is a deep-laid plot," said he, "and I think we must immediately doas O'Brien states--look after the nurse who was sent to India. Do youknow the regiment to which her husband belongs?"

"Yes, sir," replied I; "it is the 33rd, and she sailed for India aboutthree months back."

"The name, you say, I think, is O'Sullivan," said he, pulling out histablets. "Well, I will write immediately to Captain Fielding, and beghim to make the minutest inquiries. I will also write to your sisterLucy, for women are much keener than men in affairs of this sort. If theregiment is ordered to Ceylon, all the better: if not, he must obtainfurlough to prosecute his inquiries. When that is done, I will go myselfto Ireland, and try if we cannot trace the other parties."

My father then left the room, and I retired with Ellen to makepreparations for joining my ship at Plymouth. A letter announcing myappointment had come down, and I had written to request my commission tobe forwarded to the clerk of the cheque at Plymouth, that I might save auseless journey to London. On the following day I parted with my fatherand my dear sister, and, without any adventure, arrived at PlymouthDock, where I met with O'Brien. The same day I reported myself to theadmiral, and joined my brig, which was lying alongside the hulk with hertopmasts pointed through. Returning from the brig, as I was walking upFore-street, I observed a fine stout sailor, whose back was turned tome, reading the handbill which had been posted up everywhere announcingthat the _Rattlesnake_, Captain O'Brien (about to proceed to the WestIndia station, where _doubloons_ were so plentiful that dollars wereonly used for ballast), was in want of a _few_ stout hands. It mighthave been said, of a great many: for we had not entered six men, andwere doing all the work with the marines and riggers of the dockyard;but it is not the custom to show your poverty in this world either withregard to men or money. I stopped, and overheard him say, "Ay, as forthe doubloons, that cock won't fight. I've served long enough in theWest Indies not to be humbugged; but I wonder whether Captain O'Brienwas the second lieutenant of the _Sanglier_. If so, I shouldn't mindtrying a cruise with him." I thought that I recollected the voice, andtouching him on the shoulder, he turned round, and it proved to beSwinburne. "What, Swinburne!" said I, shaking him by the hand, for I wasdelighted to see him, "is it you?"

"Why, Mr Simple! Well, then, I expect that I'm right, and that MrO'Brien is made, and commands this craft. When you meet the pilot-fish,the shark arn't far off, you know."

"You're very right, Swinburne," said I, "in all except calling CaptainO'Brien a shark. He's no shark."

"No, that he arn't, except in one way; that is, that I expect he'll soonshow his teeth to the Frenchmen. But I beg your pardon, sir;" andSwinburne took off his hat.

"Oh! I understand; you did not perceive before that I had shipped theswab. Yes, I'm lieutenant of the _Rattlesnake_, Swinburne, and hopeyou'll join us."

"There's my hand upon it, Mr Simple," said he, smacking his great fistinto mine so as to make it tingle. "I'm content if I know that thecaptain's a good officer; but when there's two, I think myself lucky.I'll just take a boat, and put my name on the books, and then I'll be onshore again to spend the rest of my money, and try if I can't pick up afew hands as volunteers, for I know where they all be stowed away. I waslooking at the craft this morning, and rather took a fancy to her. Shehas a d--d pretty run; but I hope Captain O'Brien will take off herfiddle-head, and get one carved: I never knew a vessel do much with a_fiddle_-head."

"I rather think that Captain O'Brien has already applied to theCommissioner on the subject," replied I; "at all events, it won't bevery difficult to make the alteration ourselves."

"To be sure not," replied Swinburne; "a coil of four-inch will make thebody of the snake; I can carve out the head; and as for a _rattle_, I beblessed if I don't rob one of those beggars of watchmen this very night.So good-bye, Mr Simple, till we meet again."

Swinburne kept his word; he joined the ship that afternoon, and the nextday came off with six good hands, who had been induced from hisrepresentations to join the brig. "Tell Captain O'Brien," said he to me,"not to be in too great a hurry to man his ship. I know where there areplenty to be had; but I'll try fair means first." This he did, and everyday, almost, he brought off a man, and all he did bring off were goodable seamen. Others volunteered, and we were now more than half-manned,and ready for sea. The admiral then gave us permission to sendpressgangs on shore.

"Mr Simple," said Swinburne, "I've tried all I can to persuade a lot offine chaps to enter, but they won't. Now I'm resolved that my brig shallbe well manned; and if they don't know what's good for them, I do, andI'm sure that they will thank me for it afterwards; so I'm determined totake every mother's son of them."

The same night we mustered all Swinburne's men and went on shore to acrimp's house which they knew, surrounded it with our marines in bluejackets, and took out of it twenty-three fine able seamen, which nearlyfilled up our complement. The remainder we obtained by a draft from theadmiral's ship; and I do not believe that there was a vessel that leftPlymouth harbour and anchored in the Sound, better manned than the_Rattlesnake_. So much for good character, which is never lost uponseamen O'Brien was universally liked by those who had sailed with him,and Swinburne, who knew him well persuaded many, and forced the others,to enter with him, whether they liked it or not. This they in the eventdid, and, with the exception of those drafted from the flag-ship, we hadno desertions. Indeed, none deserted whom we would have wished toretain, and their vacancies were soon filled up with better men.

Chapter XLII

We sail for the West Indies--A volunteer for the ship refused and set onshore again, for reasons which the chapter will satisfactorily explainto the reader.

We were very glad when the master-attendant came on board to take usinto the Sound; and still more glad to perceive that the brig, which hadjust been launched before O'Brien was appointed to her, appeared to sailvery fast as she ran out. So it proved after we went to sea; she sailedwonderfully well, beating every vessel that she met, and overhauling ina very short time everything that we chased; turning to windward likemagic, and tacking in a moment. Three days after we anchored in theSound the ship's company were paid, and our sailing orders came down toproceed with despatches, by next evening's post, to the island ofJamaica. We started with a fair wind, and were soon clear of thechannel. Our whole time was now occupied in training our new ship'scompany at the guns, and learning them _to pull together;_ and by thetime that we had run down the trades, we were in a very fair state ofdiscipline. The first lieutenant was rather an odd character; hisbrother was a sporting man of large property, and he had contracted,from his example, a great partiality for such pursuits. He knew thewinning horses of the Derby and the Oaks for twenty years back, was anadept at all athletic exercises, a capital shot, and had his pointer onboard. In other respects, he was a great dandy in his person, alwayswore gloves, even on service, very gentlemanlike and handsome, and not avery bad sailor; that is, he knew enough to carry on his duty verycreditably, and evidently, now that he was the first lieutenant, andobliged to work, learnt more of his duty every day. I never met a morepleasant messmate or a more honourable young man. A brig is only allowedtwo lieutenants. The master was a rough, kind-hearted, intelligent youngman, always in good humour. The surgeon and purser completed our mess;they were men of no character at all, except, perhaps, that the surgeonwas too much of a courtier, and the purser too much of a skin-flint; butpursers are, generally speaking, more sinned against than sinning.

But I have been led away, while talking of the brig and the officers,and had almost forgotten to narrate a circumstance which occurred twodays before we sailed. I was with O'Brien in the cabin, when MrOsbaldistone, the first lieutenant, came in, and reported that a boy hadcome on board to volunteer for the ship.

"What sort of a lad is he?" said O'Brien.

"A very nice lad--very slight, sir," replied the first lieutenant. "Wehave two vacancies."

"Well, see what you make of him; and if you think he will do, you mayput him on the books."

"I have tried him, sir. He says that he has been a short time at sea. Imade him mount the main-rigging, but he did not much like it."

"Well, do as you please, Osbaldistone," replied O'Brien; and the firstlieutenant quitted the cabin.

In about a quarter of an hour he returned. "If you please, sir," saidhe, laughing, "I sent the boy down to the surgeon to be examined, and herefused to strip. The surgeon says that he thinks she is a woman. I havehad her up on the quarter-deck, and she refuses to answer any questions,and requires to speak with you."

"With me!" said O'Brien, with surprise. "Oh! one of the men's wives, Isuppose, trying to steal a march upon us. Well, send her down here,Osbaldistone, and I'll prove to her the moral impossibility of hersailing in his Majesty's brig _Rattlesnake_."

In a few minutes the first lieutenant sent her down to the cabin door,and I was about to retire as she entered; but O'Brien stopped me. "Stay,Peter: my reputation will be at stake if I'm left all alone," said he,laughing.

The sentry opened the door, and whether boy or girl, a more interestingface I never beheld; the hair was cut close, and I could not tellwhether the surgeon's suspicions were correct.

In the meantime the colour of the young person fled from hercountenance, and then rushed into it again, alternately leaving it paleand suffused with blushes. I perceived a trembling over the frame, theknees shook and knocked together, and had I not hastened, she--for afemale it was--would have fallen on the deck. I perceived that she hadfainted; I therefore laid her down on the deck, and hastened to obtainsome water. O'Brien ran up and went to her.

"My poor, poor girl!" said he, sorrowfully. "Oh! Peter, this is all yourfault."

"All my fault! how could she have come here?"

"By all the saints who pray for us--dearly as I prize them, I would giveup my ship and my commission, that this could be undone."

As O'Brien hung over her, the tears from his eyes fell upon her face,while I bathed it with the water I had brought from the dressing-room. Iknew who it must be, although I had never seen her. It was the girl towhom O'Brien had professed love, to worm out the secret of the exchangeof my uncle's child; and as I beheld the scene I could not help sayingto myself, "Who now will assert that evil may be done that good maycome?" The poor girl showed symptoms of recovering, and O'Brien wavedhis hand to me, saying, "Leave us, Peter, and see that no one comes in."

I remained nearly an hour at the cabin-door, by the sentry, andprevented many from entering, when O'Brien opened the door, andrequested me to order his gig to be manned and then to come in. The poorgirl had evidently been weeping bitterly, and O'Brien was much affected.

"All is arranged, Peter; you must go on shore with her, and not leaveher till you see her safe off by the night coach. Do me that favour,Peter--you ought indeed," continued he, in a low voice, "for you havebeen partly the occasion of this."

I shook O'Brien's hand and made no answer--the boat was reported ready,and the girl followed me with a firm step. I pulled on shore, saw hersafe in the coach without asking her any question, and then returned onboard.

"Come on board, sir," said I, entering the cabin with my hat in my hand,and reporting myself according to the regulations of the service.

"She never spoke, and I never asked her a question. She seemed to bewilling to do as you had arranged."

"Sit down, Peter. I never felt more unhappy, or more disgusted withmyself in all my life. I feel as if I never could be happy again. Asailor's life mixes him up with the worst part of the female sex, and wedo not know the real value of the better. I little thought when I wastalking nonsense to that poor girl, that I was breaking one of thekindest hearts in the world, and sacrificing the happiness of one whowould lay down her existence for me, Peter. Since you have been gone,it's twenty times that I've looked in the glass just to see whether Idon't look like a villain. But, by the blood of St Patrick! I thoughtwoman's _love_ was just like our own, and that a three months' cruisewould set all to rights again."

"I thought she had gone over to France."

"So did I; but now she has told me all about it. Father M'Dermot[1] andher mother brought her down to the coast near here to embark in asmuggling boat for Dieppe. When the boat pulled in-shore in the night totake them in, the mother and the rascally priest got in, but she felt asif it was leaving the whole world to leave the country I was in, and sheheld back. The officers came down, one or two pistols were fired, andthe boat shoved off without her, and she, with their luggage, was lefton the beach. She went back to the next town with the officers, whereshe told the truth of the story, and they let her go. In FatherM'Dermot's luggage she found letters, which she read, and found out thatshe and her mother were to have been placed in a convent at Dieppe; and,as the convent was named in the letters,--which she says are veryimportant, but I have not had courage to read them yet,--she went tothe people from whose house they had embarked, requesting them toforward the luggage and a letter to her mother--sending everything butthe letters, which she reserved for me. She has since received a letterfrom her mother, telling her that she is safe and well in the convent,and begging her to come over to her as soon as possible. The mother tookthe vows a week after she arrived there, so we know where to find her,Peter."

"And where is the poor girl going to stay now, O'Brien?"

"That's all the worst part of it. It appears that she hoped not to befound out till after we had sailed, and then to have, as she said, poorthing! to have laid at my feet and watched over me in the storms; but Ipointed out to her that it was not permitted, and that I would not beallowed to marry her. O Peter! this is a very sad business," continuedO'Brien, passing his hand across his eyes.

"Well, but, O'Brien, what is to become of the poor girl?"

"She is going home to be with my father and mother, hoping one day thatI shall come back and marry her. I have written to Father M'Grath, tosee what he can do."

"Have you then not undeceived her?"

"Father M'Grath must do that, I could not. It would have been the deathof her. It would have stabbed her to the heart, and it's not for me togive that blow. I'd sooner have died--sooner have married her, than havedone it, Peter. Perhaps when I'm far away she'll bear it better. FatherM'Grath will manage it."

"O'Brien, I don't like that Father M'Grath."

"Well, Peter, you may be right; I don't exactly like all he says myself;but what is a man to do?--either he is a Catholic, and believes as aCatholic, or he is not one. Will I abandon my religion, now that it ispersecuted? Never, Peter: I hope not, without I find a much better, atall events. Still I do not like to feel that this advice of my confessoris at variance with my own conscience. Father M'Grath is a worldly man;but that only proves that he is wrong, not that our religion is--and Idon't mind speaking to you on this subject. No one knows that I'm aCatholic except yourself: and at the Admiralty they never asked me totake that oath which I never would have taken, although Father M'Grathsays I may take any oath I please with what he calls heretics, and hewill grant me absolution. Peter, my dear fellow, say no more about it."

I did not; but I may as well end the history of poor Ella Flanagan atonce, as she will not appear again. About three months afterwards, wereceived a letter from Father M'Grath, stating that the girl had arrivedsafe, and had been a great comfort to O'Brien's father and mother, whowished her to remain with them altogether; that Father M'Grath, had toldher that when a man took his commission as captain it was all the sameas going into a monastery as a monk, for he never could marry. The poorgirl believed him, and thinking that O'Brien was lost to her for ever,with the advice of Father M'Grath, had entered as a nun in one of thereligious houses in Ireland, that, as she said, she might pray for himnight and day.

Many years afterwards, we heard of her--she was well, and not unhappy;but O'Brien never forgot his behaviour to this poor girl. It was asource of continual regret; and I believe, until the last day of hisexistence, his heart smote him for his inconsiderate conduct towardsher. But I must leave this distressing topic, and return to the_Rattlesnake_, which had now arrived at the West Indies, and joined theAdmiral at Jamaica.

[Footnote 1: The worthy priest formerly called Father O'Toole.--ED.]

Chapter XLIII

Description of the Coast of Martinique--Popped at for peeping--Noheroism in making oneself a target--Board a miniature Noah's Ark, underYankee colours--Capture a French slaver--Parrot soup in lieu of mockturtle.